SEALs
by Onesmartcookie78
Summary: The conflict between Templars and Assassins transcends time. May be expanded later to include Desmond, Shaun, Rebecca and Lucy.


SEALs

**Onesmartcookie78**

**Summary:** The conflict between Templars and Assassins transcends time. May be expanded later to include Desmond, Shaun, Rebecca and Lucy.

Hans Aldersflügel slit the Templar's throat and dashed off the stage and out of the theatre to the sounds of screams.

"Dear Lord, he killed him! Assassin! He killed him!" The Germans and Austrians who had been watching the production of "The Sound of Music" were in an uproar as the stared helplessly at Hans's back, praying that he wouldn't take their lives as well. He saw people pointing fingers and shouts of horror reached his ears, but Hans cleared his mind, focussing on the task at hand; escape. That was easier said then done, as terrified civilians ran in every which direction, afraid that they were next.

That was, of course, ridiculous; Hans had sworn to stay his blade from the flesh of the innocent long ago.

After Connor Kenway's somewhat military alignment, Assassins who wished to stay better in hiding had taken to joining their respective country's armed forces in hopes that their missions could be carried out under the pretence of a government assignment.

For many Europeans, the plan had worked, allowing them more secrecy, less scrutiny and a well-paying job. They were the most elite of all soldiers and their salaries were an accurate representation of such.

Americans had, however, been severely reduced in numbers- many even believed that the American Assassins no longer existed.

Hans Aldersflügel was absolutely no exception: as a man from an entirely Assassin based German family, he had been quickly accepted into their ranks and had risen drastically in military hierarchy over the past ten years. He was in his thirties and obscenely strong for a man his age.

Such was demonstrated when he began climbing the balconies to the upper levels, running across the backs of the chair's of rich patrons. Women wearing gaudy gowns, long strands of pearls and glittering jewels leapt up screeching about the murder of the beloved actor playing the male lead and how the murderer was here, dammit and the guards had better come arrest him.

No guards would be coming though; Hans's team had taken care of it. Under the cover of an arms dealer from Syria, Julien Wertz had been the assigned target of the German government for a very long time. He was, in actuality, a Templar working for Abstergo.

A man in a sharp, fitted suit (more than likely Armani) nearly trampled a lady dressed in a deep cut velvet dress and Hans caught her.

Whoever said chivalry was dead?

The woman shrieked at him fainted. With nowhere to put her due to the stampeding mob, Hans gave a heavy sigh and carried her bridal style out the window he had been heading to.

Now he faced the problem of getting down. Hans peered over the ledge and grumbled irritably as he dropped the woman to the ground unceremoniously.

Just because he was being kind didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

He called for Pierre on the radio, telling him about the woman, though he wasn't sure where to put her. He could have Guy search the database for her and then they could deposit her at her house.

Hans thought of all the work ahead of him as he tossed the woman down to Vincent. She fell gracelessly, her nearly indecent attire tangled around her plummeting form, nearly flashing all of the men.

Hans gave a long suffering sigh.

It had been a long day and it only seemed that it was going to grow longer.

* * *

"I'm not going anywhere." She was stubborn, the witch he had rescued. Not much of a damsel in distress, this one.

"Just tell us where and we'll drop you off," Hans found himself sighing again- he'd been doing that often today.

The lady, Helen she had said, crossed her arms across the straining fabric of her tightly covered chest, pouting to the fullest definition of the expression. "I have nowhere to go. I know who you are, Assassin, and I wish to join you."

The van they had been driving in came to a screeching halt as Pierre slammed on the brakes in surprise. Guy turned to Hans, expecting orders to dispose of her. She was clearly no innocent if she knew who they were, and could very well be a Templar.

Hans analysed the situation as objectively as he could: the information she had just spewed in one hand and the knowledge that she had been incredibly shocked when he her caught her earlier. Clearly she was a civilian if she had been so appalled at all the blood. Though she may very well just be a squeamish agent, it was as unlikely.

"We can set you up with a bit of money, but trust me, girl, you don't want to have the job I do," Hans finally decided, thinking of all the Euros he had locked in a safety deposit box at home.

"How old do you think I am?" Helen huffed, her cheeks tinged pink.

Hans gestured to Pierre, telling him to start driving again. "You do know what my profession is, correct, girl? Based on your appearance I would say mid twenties, but due to your childish attitude and slutty clothes, you are probably no more than twenty-four."

Helen's mouth opened and closed and she gave an indignant squawk. "I'll have you know that I am twenty-six, and I take offence to-"

Hans waved a dismissive hand, "I do not care. Tell me your answer, child, and you will be on your way with enough money for a flat in England, if you wish, and a surplus for food and utilities for a year."

Helen swallowed, "Fine. I'll take the money."

* * *

Three years had passed since the "incident" as Hans now referred to it as. He found himself in London that day, having finally left the military due to a blown cover.

He was under the gun and on the run. How fitting.

The year was 1987 and he was planning on going to America.

He exited the tube and made his way down the cold, damp streets, intending on boarding a plane with his remaining money.

Hans strolled casually down the street, blending in with the people naturally. He came to an abrupt halt as he drew a dagger out of his shoulder with a wince.

How had they snuck up on him? Templars were not very well known for their subtlety, after all.

Though the blade had impaled his shoulder, it wouldn't kill him... unless it was poisoned. Hans tore a strip off of his shirt and tied it tightly around the wound, never once having stopped walking.

He continued on, breaths coming shorter as poison indeed coursed through his veins. Shit. He needed the antidote to most uncommon and common poisons. It was in his pocket. Trembling fingers reached but never touched the smooth bottle as Hans Aldersflügel collapsed.

* * *

Perhaps it was fate that had brought him to her door: he certainly hadn't meant to show up here in this dainty, decidedly feminine room.

Delicate lace covered the sofa and the walls were painted a pale pink. He groaned in annoyance at the sight. Hans attempted to sit up only to be shoved back down by a woman with long red nails and dark black hair. The Austrian was wearing a dress in the same style as the one he had found her in before, dark green but less tight than its predecessor.

_Helen Svard. _

She sniffed at his expression and Hans choked on the strong scent of her perfume: a heavy dosage of raw oranges and fresh vanilla.

"Do you remember me?" She scoffed.

"If not by sight, definitely by smell. Must you marinate in your perfume?" Hans coughed, brushing his still light blonde hair away from his brown eyes.

Helen huffed.

Not even a few weeks later, the two had come to an unexpected marriage. Helen was with child and they were headed to America. They had lost all of the Templars on their tail... they hoped.

* * *

"Wendell, where are you?" Helen called for her fifteen year old son. The year was 2002 and she was pregnant again.

"Getting dressed, mom!" He shouted back in German.

Hans rolled his eyes, "I'm about to give birth and you're **GETTING** **DRESSED**?!" Helen screamed.

Hans cringed at the pitch and from the resulting bang! upstairs, Wendell had done the same on a more extreme level. Instantly his son was in front of them, holding open the door for Helen who waddled to the car.

* * *

"Faster!" Hans instructed his daughter as he again knocked the fencing foil from her hands. "You're dead. Move your feet, _tochter_." He lowered the thin blade, giving the seven year old a soft smile. "Again."

Louise Madde Aldersflügel nodded, determined, and raised her weapon, settling into a balanced stance. One hand resided behind her back as she brought up the foil to block once, twice- Louise went on the attack. Her hand moved quickly, seemingly of it's own accord, and struck his sword with equal strength. The tiny girl advanced, trying to push her father back with her offensive positioning, Hans didn't back away and Louise was forced to stop moving forward, lest he find an opening and-

"No. Too far this time. Keep your opponent on his feet; make him retreat. Stay within range, not too close nor too far." Hans advised.

His son, Wendell, had just graduated college, got married and found work, leaving only he, Helen and Louise.

Helen had been so happy to have a girl, though she wanted her daughter to be feminine.

Hans, however, wanted Louise to go into the military. Wendell had been a lost cause when it came to sword and knife work, but Louise was showing some potential.

Therefore, Louise was caught between two worlds; gymnastics for her mutter and all sorts of weapons training from her vater. Without even thinking about it, Hans had begun to train her in the ways of an Assassin. Though they were good skills to learn, he honestly didn't want her to join the Brotherhood. The military was much safer and would fullfill his dreams of having a child that could shoot.

Louise took form again, and on unspoken agreement, they both simultaneously raised their foils in a rapid, concise motion.

This time, the girl bided her time, calculating out her moves before she performed them. He could see her bright blue eyes shifting, observing. Then she attacked.

Louise stepped forward with practised grace, slashing down only to change fluidly halfway through, lift her blade, and then feint right, right again, left and finish the slash. The result would have been effective, had she not been fighting a Master Assassin. Hans blocked just as inhumanely fast as his child dealt her blows, countering her at one point, forcing the foil from her hands.

Louise gave him a stunned look and then a cautious grin. Hans beamed in return, placed his foot under the foil and flipped it into the air with a flick of his foot. He caught it deftly and threw it to Louise.

"Think ahead of your opponent. Anticipate, _tochter_; ten steps in front of your attacker -or prey- at all times, _ja_?"

Louise nodded and he pat her head affectionately. "Again."

The seven year old girl went on the defence.

* * *

"You're going to be late!" Helen shouted at her daughter, "you don't have time for breakfast!"

"I'm not going to starve, _mutter_," fourteen year old Louise -now known as Lulu- rolled her eyes.

Helen nearly reprimanded her, but settled on tossing her a green apple. Lulu easily caught it and took a bite, juice trickling down her chin in an unladylike manner.

Helen grimaced, "We'll have your school lessons later today and then work on your manners," she informed Lulu, "they're simply atrocious. Now get to the gym and warm up, your father and I will be there when the show starts to cheer you on."

Lulu smiled, "When will I finish my high school lessons by the way?"

"We're on eleventh grade material, so in half a year, probably," Helen shrugged, "now go!" She shooed her daughter out the door.

Lulu gave her mom a happy smile, though her shoulders slumped as soon as the door closed. She tried to please her parents, but in doing so never wound up pleasing herself.

Or rather, she pleased her mother with the gymnastics and slowly paced school lessons. Her father was much easier to please as he wanted her to do thing she was good at. That was not to say that she was wretched at gymnastics though- she was actually quite good, she just didn't enjoy them.

Lulu bit into the ripe fruit again and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

Her mother would have had a heart attack.

* * *

"Show me your stance," Hans requested, walking circles around Louise.

Lulu adjusted her posture and her foot placement, shifting her weight and levelling her fists.

"Good, right hook, _tochter_."

Lulu obliged.

"Follow through next time- don't limit yourself. Again."

Lulu repeated the move, closing her eyes and bringing her balled fist up in a speedy right hook.

"Perfect," Hans congratulated her, "keep your eyes open this time. Again!"

Lulu did it correctly this time and they moved through the moves a few more times. "Now how about your knife work?" Hans asked, "shall I start teaching you that?"

"Dad," Lulu sighed, "you do realise the military uses guns nowadays."

"You never know," Hans protested, "it may come in handy and at times it may be more convenient. This may very well save your life."

"Fine," Lulu accepted the throwing knife with a frown, "but can we go down to the ranges this weekend?"

"Yes. We will practice your archery and your skill with a firearm."

"Yay!" Lulu, now fifteen and a high (home) school graduate, sent the knife careening at the target, flipping end over end before it landed, hilt deep, in the bullseye.

Hans gave the weapon a hard yank, "Little less force next time, _tochter_, or I'll need a new set of throwing knives. Your goal is not to mortally impale your target; it's to hit them in a kill spot. A knife sunk all the way through the leg is not fatal unless it strikes a vital artery or the person bleeds to death. A shot to the head or the heart is guaranteed to kill."

"How do you know all of this anyway?" Lulu spun the small knife in between and around her fingers, sending it twirling into the air only to catch it, her eyes locked on Hans the whole time.

"When I lived in Germany, I served in an elite team in the army."

"I want a job like that too one day, dad," Lulu smiled.

"Go to college and we'll talk about it." Hans told her sternly.

Lulu sighed, "What if college is too slow?"

"I think you'll be fine."

* * *

"Men, we have another person qualified to be on SEAL team six. This is the new candidate," the high ranking officer tacked a new picture onto the bulletin board.

It was a long honoured tradition that each new candidate be displayed photogenically for all of the soldiers to see. From there, the men would vote (based on appearance) on if the person should be allowed on the team.

And though the SEALs had decided to start taking females, none had ever applied...

Until now. There, captured in a clear, vivid depiction was Louise.

"A girl?" Sam Coronet snorted, "no."

"You don't know what she'll be like," Garrett Dempsey spoke up, straightening his uniform and his thick black hair.

"She's too soft for this," Frodo rolled his eyes, "how old is she anyway? Twenties?"

"Who cares," Garrett shrugged, "she's beautiful, she may be available and if she's posted, she must be good."

"Or her dad has deep pockets," Frodo argued.

"No, Garrett's probably right," Sam sighed. He reached for the pen and scratched a check mark under the blonde girl's portrait.

* * *

"They got ICBMs, sir, and they're building a small army." Sam saluted his commanding officer and took a step back.

"Fine then. Conduct reconnaissance and find a hole. North Korea will not take Seoul from us, nor will they launch those ICBMs. Where isLieutenant Commander Aldersflügel?"

"She's on shore leave, sir. Should we call her in?"

"Only if need be."

"Sir, yes, sir!"

* * *

"Easy, Lola." Sam warned the blonde as she vanished from their line of sight. The soldier was dressed to the nine in black. She was the only one with a slight enough frame to ease in through the ventilation ducts and as such she had been recruited as a one woman team.

"Shut up, Sam; if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times! If you're going to shorten my name, it's Lulu, not 'Lola'!"

Lulu climbed a tree with practiced ease and payed mind to the security cameras. The year was 2028 and she was twenty-six years old.

"Whatever you say, Lola." Garrett chuckled.

Lulu rolled her eyes as she dashed into the blind spot created from the cameras and skipped over a motion sensor.

"Lola is your codename. How about that?" Sam supplied. "I'm already the-"

"-Alpha, yes, we know," Lulu interrupted, scaling the wall, "you chose it yourself because you're 'tough'."

Garrett snorted and Frodo grumbled something about stupid women and idiotic Asians.

"Oh shut it, you Arabian," Sam called back.

"Six, Lola, six! Watch your six!" Garrett advised her, looking through his night vision scope. He kept her in the crosshairs until she vanished in the vent.

Knowing the importance of success, all of the SEALs closed their mouths and allowed their female counterpart a moment of silence.

Ten minutes later, Lulu breathed out, "I think I just defied orders."

"What did you do?" Sam sighed.

"I killed the leader of their forces. Whilst he was sleeping."

At Garrett's sharp inhale, she added quickly, "No one knows!"

"Lola," Frodo growled, "you were supposed to get in and take some pictures, not kill the man!"

"It won't do any harm!" Lulu shot back, "and stop calling me 'Lola'!"

"You may have just compromised the entire mission!" Sam shouted and the Naval officer winced.

"Sure Alpha, but I can escape. The situation is salvageable." There was more silence and then a side door opened unexpectedly. "Come on, I took out all the guards standing watch. Now we just have to kill all the sleeping soldiers. There're only about fifty."

"We're a ten man team," Frodo deadpanned, though he went through the door anyway.

The youngest -a boy by the name Billy- hesitated unlike his comrades and slipped his hand in his pocket for his good luck charm.

* * *

"You disobeyed a direct order!" Commander Davies spat at her, "you could have got everyone killed."

Louise's jaw clenched, "I made a judgement call."

"Then you have poor judgement. You will do what I say."

"My judgement is fine, thank you. This was a mission that was up to my interpretation. I assessed the situation and made a call."

"It was not your call to make! Your were meant to collect data, no destroy their forces."

"The way I see it, I did the right thing: I saved you time, money and men."

"You pissed off the North Koreans! When the shit hits the fan, you're not the one who's going to have to clean it up, To be honest, you're lucky I'm not going to discharge you."

Louise clenched her jaw.

She quit. It was just ridiculous.

* * *

"'You are cordially invited to the unveiling of the new Navy SEALS display at the Smithsonian. You may bring one plus one.'" Wendell read aloud as he rooted through his sister's mail, "this event will probably have a lot of important people," he teased, "if you're dead set on being a professor, you may want to go."

"I don't want to see any of them," Lulu complained.

"That's a lie- you want to see your team, just not your old C.O."

"I agree with Wendell, Lulu, you should go," Julia, her sister-in-law smirked, "you do seem to talk about your old X.O. often enough that it's be worth it."

"I don't know, Julie. And for the last time, I don't like Sam!"

"Sure you don't. Just go. I'll even be your date," Julie offered.

"No... I'll go, I swear, but you and Wendell should go on a date- it's on your anniversary."

"The kids-" Julie started.

"Are old enough to be home alone," Lulu finished. "And if you don't think so, have _mutter_ and _vater_ look after them."

* * *

_"Hey, Lola, it's Sam. I was wandering if you'd be my date to the unveiling? Eagerly awaiting your response."_

_"Lola: just wanted to know if you're going to the event. We miss you! Oh and this was Garrett if you couldn't tell."_

_"Lola, get your sorry ass to the unveiling. You're making Sam and Garrett worried."_ That one was Frodo.

Lulu heaved a dramatic sigh and forced herself off the bed for the evening.

* * *

Lulu shoved on some black stilettos -a type of torture device that Julie had bought her for her birthday- and a green dress. She mourned the absence of her combat boots, her gun and that sense of camaraderie one felt when they served their country in a military unit.

She missed the victory of a battle well fought, the peace of the outdoors, the tension of always being on her toes. It was strange how one got used to such a thing, how routine such dangerous activities became.

She missed the SEAL's day-to-day high adrenaline missions, the hard beds, the cold food.

But most of all, she missed Sam, Garett, Billy and Frodo.

And hated the disappointment that had shone in her father's eyes.

Lulu pushed the doors of the museum open to find the sort of high class atmosphere she would never -could never- get used to.

Rich food lined the tables, and people dressed much more formally than she had ever swayed elegantly across the dance floor. Double, dark maroon staircases swept down to meet creamy, white tile. Golden chandeliers reflected light off the polished floor, bathing the room in a warm sunlight like shade of yellow.

It was the newly reconstructed, refurbished and completely redecorated Smithsonian lobby, specially spruced up for the occasion.

Polished, carved mahogany doors (massive in scale) were wide, displaying to the side the newly established exhibit.

Pictures of her SEAL team -only hers- had been blown up and sharpened by new technology. The photos were mainly of their training days, as all of their work was extremely confidential, but even with their faces blurred out, they still looked beautiful.

And there, next to the hologram of their arctic survival outfit was her team, dressed like civilians and cleaned up professionally. They stood drinking champagne by the looks of it, their hard muscles outlined by the fabric of their plain black suits. They had their backs to her, but even still, she knew they had noticed her.

Garrett was the first one to turn around, then the fifteen other men, Sam and Frodo also in front of the soldiers. Garrett greeted her with a warm smile, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. He was such a flirt.

Sam gave her a nod, though anger tinged it into something a bit more disrespectful.

Frodo rolled his eyes at her appearance, seeming annoyed. "Took you long enough, Lola," he said gruffly.

Sam walked away.

At least Frodo and Garrett forgave her.

Garrett pulled her into the circle of military men, she being the only female. Her father had fought long and hard, dropping major military clout in order to get her into the strictly male program. Hans's argument had been that if she could qualify for the SEAL training, she should be allowed to do it. From there, if she dropped out, at least a woman would have had a chance. She had pushed herself to the brink and it had payed off as she was now one of the toughest soldiers in the military.

"Hey, did you observe how cold it was outside?" Garrett asked. The term was a code for strange occurrences. His eyes were fixed on a location behind her, but when she turned, he hissed: "don't look!"

Lulu contemplated the matter, but she hadn't seen anything strange, "No, but I've seen a lot of friendly people," there, now she had pointed out that all of the people here were approved by the government to be near the SEALs.

"Yes, but I'm fairly certain I saw some people dancing the tango," Garrett stressed. So he did think there were enemies -tangoes- at this event?

Lulu thought up response, but couldn't see a way to continue the conversation using code. "I thought they were waltzing?"

Garrett ignored her, "Want to dance?"

Lulu nodded.

Garrett led her to the floor, placing one of her hands on his shoulder, allowing his fingers to trail down her arm before attaching it to her hip. He took the other in his own and pulled her close. "Now that I've set the intimate couple mood, no one will bother us. See the man behind my left shoulder?"

Lulu placed her mouth next to his ear, trying to keep up with the cover, "Yes, I see him."

"You're very good at this," Garrett commented, "the one in the grey and white suit?

"Yes, Garry, I see him," Lulu sighed.

"'Garry'?" He sounded affronted.

"You get to call me Lola!"

He shrugged, "Whatever. Don't you think he's suspicious?"

Lulu studied the man. He had thick black hair, many wrinkles and a tired expression. "Definitely, Garry." She rolled her eyes.

Garrett kissed her on the corner of the mouth. "He is. Watch; in a second-" as soon as he spoke, a man decked in a black Armani suit strolled by- "a man with a red tie will walk by and they will do a brush pass. Then he'll walk away. Is that not suspicious?"

Lulu observed the occurrence carefully, "It's not a brush pass, he's slipping poison or something into his wine. The man doesn't even notice because he's so intoxicated already," she clarified.

Garrett frowned, "How did you see that? I'm fairly sure they were passing-"

"No," Lulu interrupted, "I'm sure."

"It's awfully far away. Can you tell who it was?"

"Where's Billy?" Lulu asked instead as a bad feeling manifested itself in the pit of her stomach.

"He's at my eight. See him?" Garrett didn't question her change in topic.

"No. What's he wearing?" Lulu put her head on Garrett's shoulder to get a better view.

"Light blue suit."

"I don't see him-"

"Wait- I do, he's at your six right now. I'll dip you so that you can see him. The world spun upside down and out of the corner of her right eye, she saw Billy with a glass of red wine, lounging about near the buffet tables. Garrett eased her back into his chest, "Did you see him?"

"Yeah, he was on my five though."

"Sorry," Garrett shrugged, "do you see everyone else?"

"I have eyes on half the team."

"Good, 'cause I have the other half," Garrett smirked.

"Fantastic, and your English is horrible.

"Billy is gone." Garrett informed her.

"What do you mean he's-"

"Where's the guy in the red tie? He should be making another pass by the man in the grey and white suit right about- now." Garrett interjected.

"He didn't walk by and the man in the grey and white suit is missing!"

"Wait- Billy is back." The tension coiling in Lulu's stomach didn't go away.

"Analysis?" She questioned, her mind racing.

"Sam's giving the signal- he saw something."

"What do you mean, 'the signal'?" Lulu started, but Sam had cut in.

"May I steal this fine lady from you?" Sam inquired, his black eyes locked on Louise.

"Of course," Garrett dropped her hand and vanished into the crowd.

"What's going on, Sam?" Lulu fought an expression of surprise as Sam approached the dance differently than Garrett. Sam wrapped both arms around her waist, leaving her to lock hers around his neck.

"The man in the grey and white was a security guard dressed to blend in," Sam provided, "and the man with the red tie was a known art thief."

"Alright, I won't even bother asking how you know that since you probably won't tell me anyway."

"Good choice. So what's your analysis, Lola?"

"It doesn't bother me any more. I got over it."

"Sure you did. Reverse psychology, I'm positive." Sam's eyes were flicking back and forth as he examined something that she couldn't. "Now, analysis?"

Lulu (henceforth Lola) scanned the room, taking in everything and observing more men in grey and white suits: "Well I see how you came to the security guard conclusion."

Sam grunted and Lola studied the lavish room again, searching for anything else out of the ordinary. "The guard that was posted near the punch bowl is gone and he was there literally seconds ago. The art thief is over talking to the museum director right now on the other side of the room- and he just stole his wallet. It can't be him and even still, he's an unlikely suspect as murder doesn't normally fall under an art thief's -as they usually consider themselves classy- skill set."

"Get to the point," Sam was shuffling her around in a smooth circle, allowing her a full three hundred sixty degree view.

"Whoever it is is trained well. Kevin is missing. Do you have eyes?"

"No, I can't find him."

"Do we have ears?"

"Only Garrett and I thought to bring the comms."

"They confiscated mine."

"Your fault for quitting. Now reach into my pocket, Lola."

"Why?"

"Spare comms. If you lose them or break then, I will murder you and make you pay for the new one. Those things are expensive."

"You would know, you've broken them many times." Lola gave Sam a shit-eating grin and casually slid her hand into the aforementioned pocket, subtly slipping the comms unit into Sam's hand. The soldier understood, brushing a piece of Lola's blond hair out of the way, tucking it behind her ear as he manoeuvred the device into her ear.

"By the way, Sam, how would you make me pay for it if I was dead?"

"I expect to be in your will somewhere," he stated briskly. "Garry the snail, this is Alpha and Lola the loony bird, do you read us?"

"Gary the snail? Lola the loony bird?" The SEAL mouthed to her friend.

Sam gave her a cat that ate the canary type smile and they waited for Garrett's response.

"This is... Garry the snail? Frodo the Hobbit is with me and we are going to examine the displays in the art rooms. Anyone else have a bad feeling?"

"I do," Lola agreed.

"Brilliant. Lola's intuition is generally spot on. Lola and I are coming to you-"

Suddenly there was a loud thump followed by a silenced gunshot, barely more than a whisper against the quiet. There was the sound of scuffling and then running footsteps and finally the unit was picked up.

And as much as it pained the two of them, both Lola and Sam kept from shouting their worry, or even freezing their movements.

"This is Frodo the Hobbit. Whoever it was got to Garry the snail. I managed to get a shot off though, and clipped the person. Orders, Alpha?"

Sam shared a long look with Lola who shook her head. "Meet Lola the loony bird, Davy Jones, Freddy the Mystery Machine and I at the entrance to the art gallery as quickly as you can. The rest of the team will keep an eye on the ballroom."

"Sir, yes, sir. Frodo the Hobbit out."

Sam glanced at Lola, and though no words were exchanged, it was understood- he would take the right and she the left...

It was their routine when the shit hit the fan.

* * *

Lola blocked out Frodo's response, already knowing what he would say, as the ball in her stomach had turned to lead. Garrett was dead.

Lola allowed herself a second to mourn and then compartmentalised, keeping that information out from the front of her mind and locking it into a box for later: she could grieve at another time, preferably after the rest of her platoon was guaranteed safety.

She and Sam parted and in seconds, Lola had found a quarter of the men and informed them of the situation. Freddy was among the quarter and she sent him to the art gallery for Sam. The next two minutes were spent conducting surveillance and planning a patrol pattern that would be undetectable with the remaining men.

The SEALs followed her orders without question, though she no longer ranked above them like she used to.

Lola then set off to the art gallery, seeing the three men waiting for her and took her place next to Sam.

"I organised everyone else," Sam informed her, "and they're scouting out everything as we speak."

"Frodo?" Lola pushed a stray hair out of her eye. "Where's he?"

"Hasn't showed yet," Sam replied.

"Analysis?" Lola questioned, peering around the group to see the dark hallway looming before them.

"Assume the worse." Sam confirmed.

"That he went AWOL and killed Garry?" Davy asked.

"Or that he's dead too?"

Lola and Sam's eyes met again, "Both," Sam shrugged, "we can't limit ourselves, our options, or underestimate our opponents."

Lola remembered a time, many years ago when her father had said nearly the same thing to her: "_Don't limit yourself."_

Good advice indeed.

"What's the call?" Freddy was a stout, redheaded man with lots of freckles and a minor role in this story. "Do we split?"

"Right," Sam claimed, "and you're with me Freddy."

"All right, Alpha."

"You're with me then, Davy." Lola pointed to the man with the vaguely Roman features. Davy was an Italian and also part of the supporting cast

.

To the left happened to be the security room, the bathrooms and the gift shop, according to the sign, and Davy found a light switch. He nearly flipped it, but Lola shook her head frantically.

"No, we need an advantage," she whispered.

They checked the gift shop first, Lola opening the door and Davy entering before her. They made their way stealthily, fast -but thorough- through the small store, clearing corners and then the room.

"Gift shop, clear," Lola was still whispering.

"Modern art exhibits, clear." Sam replied.

"Stalls?" Davy inquired, stashing the gun he had somehow got past security.

Lola made an affirmative and they made their way their next, following the same method as they searched the lady's room.

They opened one stall at the time, careful not to kick them in, lest they alert the intruder of their presence.

"Lady's room, clear."

"Sculpture room, clear."

The same procedure passed for the men's room and again Lola and Davy found nothing. Lola informed Sam who had cleared the old relics section with Freddy and continued onto the security room.

Freddy opened the door and Lola went in first, pointing the gun that Freddy had handed off to her to the right, then the left. She scrunched her face up at the sudden, familiar stench that assaulted her nostrils. Her stilettos stuck to the floor slightly and made a wet noise as she continued her perusal of the station. The room was dark and all of the video screens were blank. Freddy looked at her for confirmation and at her nod, felt along the wall for the switch.

He pulled away suddenly, muttering an abrupt, "What _was_ that?" before he finally flipped the button.

Freddy immediately examined his hand, only to find it covered in a sticky red substance- blood.

Lola gagged as she took in the scene, but compartmentalised her horror for later- she was good at that, shoving things away to function properly for the moment. Freddy didn't have as much experience in doing so, and retched and finally vomited.

The floor was slick with the same red substance that was smeared along the walls, coated almost as though someone had spread it along the room as a new floor covering. It certainly wasn't in puddles dotted around the room like she was used to. It seemed like someone had slit all of the one guard's major arteries, for his cream shirt was now stained crimson. Even his black pants had sopped up the blood, leaving them tinged an odd shade somewhere between the two colours.

The other security guard was wearing a headset, though further inspection proved that it was turned off, and his eyes were wide with terror. He sat propped against the wall, his back to the door, face against the wall, bloody handprint above him as though he'd stumbled along to get help.

The last body had clearly been dragged to the room, as there were two lines where the man's heels had dug into the floor. He was lying stomach down and Lola shivered at the sight of his exposed flesh. Carved into his back was a lone message: "The Apple is mine." The ball lounging in her stomach fell to her feet. She recognised that back. She had watched that back all of her career, protected this man.

Lola flipped the body over-

it was Garrett.

* * *

Lola didn't let herself cry. She forced the image into her filing cabinet for later once again, and Davy threw up for a second time.

"I found Garrett, and the guards in the office are dead," Lola intoned, gesturing for Davy to follow her as she exited the mess.

"We found where he was killed then," Sam said, "how are you, Lulu?"

"Back to that, are we?" She choked out, "I prefer Lola now."

"Garrett wouldn't have wanted you to cave so easily-"

"But he wanted to call me Lola, and so now everyone shall," the SEAL cut him off, "where's the rendezvous?"

"Southwest staircase, near the basements, everything else is cleared here. Listen, Lola," his voice was rough with sadness, "did you-? I mean- you and Garry were close... Do you- do you love him? Did you love him?"

"No," her voice was harsh and no more than a whisper.

"Okay," Sam swallowed, forcing himself to close off his own emotions for the time being.

Lola led Davy to the designated area and the pair came to a halt when they heard running footsteps.

"Freddy is down, I'm coming to you!" Sam yelled, just as Lola was hit in the back of the head with a sharp object.

The world went black and she heard Davy scream before he crumpled too.

* * *

Sam sprinted to the storage room staircase -labeled in the blueprints as the southwest staircase- in time to see Billy jiggling the door and giving the collapsed bodies of Lola and Davy nervous looks.

He spun around when Sam arrived, slowing his pace, "Thank goodness you're here, Alpha! The culprit is in the basement! He killed Davy and Lola!"

Normally Sam would have investigated the younger man's claim, but if the murderer was in the storage room, he could avenge his friends' deaths.

"Step out of the way," Sam instructed Billy impatiently.

The short SEAL complied, his large brown eyes staring at Sam in admiration. When Sam opened the door, Billy attacked. Sam was ready for him, and grabbed him by the throat, spinning the newest SEAL into one of the shelves and holding him there. The shelf shook at the impact and swayed precariously.

"You little shit!" Sam gasped, "I knew I should have been suspicious when you kept disappearing! We trusted you!"

Billy laughed maniacally, "I know you did! That's what made this victory so sweet! The taste of betrayal is bitter, yes, Samuel?"

Sam punched him in the jaw, "Why, Billy? What do you want? There's nothing of importance here!"

Billy spat blood on Sam's cheek, but the Asian didn't care. Training had taken over and he needed to push away all of his personal emotions for later. He needed to focus.

"I prefer William, if you don't mind," Billy smirked from behind his split lip, his glasses crooked and jaw already purpled, looking for all the world an abused schoolboy. "And did your pet, Louise, tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Sam slugged him again.

"The message?" Billy asked gleefully, "didn't dearest Louise, pretty little Lulu, or even Lola, the only female SEAL, the one every single one of us wanted- didn't she tell you? Before she died?"

"Don't speak of her that way," Sam growled, decking him for a third time.

Billy giggled, madness in his puppy dog eyes, "Oh, but Assassin, I went to great lengths to ensure that she would! Do you know how difficult it was to persuade Frodo to deposit Garry's body in the security room? He protested immensely, but he broke after a few seconds of water torture. I thought SEALs -rather I know SEALs- were meant to be stronger than that," he tsked, "of course, I probably didn't help his cause when I told him that I had Freddy surveying his family, ready to take a shot if need be. So little trust among our group."

"You're not one of us!" Sam broke his nose, and Billy only laughed harder, more insanely.

"No, I am!" Billy's grin widened, "I am, Assassin."

"How did you even know?" Sam asked.

"You Assassin's are ridiculously gullible, so easy to lure out. Garrett was one too, you know, and he was sent to keep an eye on Hans's daughter, just like you. Neither of you were ever told of your conflicting orders, but I have a man on the inside!"

"Who?" Sam ground out.

"You silly Assassin! You think I would tell you that?" A twisted facial expression surpassed Billy's innocent one. "I've had this planned for so long and you think I would just ruin it at a drop of the hat just because some silly Asian boy wearing a SEAL's clothing demands the answer from me? No, we're in far too deep for that now!"

"You little-"

Sam didn't have a chance to respond as Billy broke his hold, "Frodo is still alive and under my bidding, you know?" Billy gestured behind Sam.

Sam ducked and spun, barely avoiding the fist aimed his way. He could hear Billy running, the coward, and riffling through all of the undisplayed exhibit crap.

"Frodo!" Sam caught his leg and twisted to the side, forcing Frodo's back to him as he shoved him face first in the wall, "Freddy is dead! He's not going to hurt your family! He's the bad guy, Frodo!"

Frodo grunted and wretched his leg out of Sam's grip, "I didn't mean to-" to Sam's horror, the man had tears dripping out of the corners of his eyes, "I thought- he made me-"

"We'll talk about it later," Sam assured him, giving him a pat on the back. "Now let's-"

A knife was spinning through the air, the steel glinting in the low lighting, until -finally, reluctantly- it embedded itself in Frodo's chest. The man let out a whoosh! of breath, and grabbed the hilt, yanking it out. The metal was coated in his blood and Frodo wordlessly passed it to Sam. His dying expression held only one phrase: "Get the bastard".

"Frodo!" Sam threw the projectile at Billy, but he caught it with a pillow from the Trinity Test Site replica house exhibit. "I'm going to kill you, Templar!" With that, Sam knocked the pillow from Billy's hands and tackled him to the ground.

* * *

Lola woke, blood matting her shoulder length blonde hair, to the sound of heavy boots on a marble floor. By the frequency of the foot placement, the person was tall. By the noise level, the person was trained and light on their feet. And from all of her time in the SEALs with her team, the boots belonged to Frodo.

She tried to stand, to even open her mouth, but her head hurt. Pain radiated from somewhere near the nape of her neck and with blurry vision, she recognised that the blood she was surrounded by wasn't only hers.

Davy lay next to her, crimson trickling from the corner of his open mouth, blood flowing in a steady stream down his chest where a heavy battle ax had impaled him. How someone had got a weapon like that, she didn't know, but based on the open storage room door, it may have come from an exhibit.

How wrong she was. The Lola of the future could only wish that she had know all about Assassins and Templars from the beginning. Maybe then she would have realised that the battle ax was from fifteenth or sixteenth century renaissance Italy, that it had been passed from Assassin to Assassin for years upon years.

And if Sam had stopped to examine the bodies of his fallen comrades, he definitely would have recognised the weapon. He would have known then who Billy's inside source in the Brotherhood was.

But he hadn't and she didn't yet understand, so the information, the detail, was lost on everyone.

It took a few minutes for Lola to heave herself up, see the antique hammer on the floor, and realise that she was very, VERY, lucky to be alive. The house tool had been utilised poorly, as it hadn't broke her skull like it could have, and pointed to her attacker's ineptitude for this particular weapon. She could, however, feel a nice, long gash across the back of her head. The pain hadn't registered yet, due to shock or perhaps adrenalin, but it would. The head wound explained all of the blood- they tended to bleed a lot.

Lola apologised to Davy profusely as she checked his pulse and -when she found him dead- slipped off his suit jacket. Lola bunched up the material and tied it to her head.

She charged the storage room to the sound of screaming.

Billy brought the battered, heavy knight's sword down on Sam's left ring finger, effectively severing bone and flesh. He laughed loudly as Sam refused to scream. "I'm sure you already knew, Assassin, but they used to have to chop off a finger, this finger specifically-" Billy held up the single digit- "to accommodate every Assassin's weapon of choice; a hidden blade."

Sam said nothing.

"How disappointingly accurate I was," Billy sighed, "I knew you would be harder to break than Frodo. Odd name on that one, hmm? I wonder if his parents, the poor immigrants that they were, grew obsessed with Lord of the Rings whilst they began assimilating to their new environment?" He waved the hand containing Sam's finger around, 'accidentally' flinging the abused digit across the room.

"You make them sound like animals," Sam accused.

"They are," Billy's mouth turned down in a genuinely confused frown, "just like your parents. Immigrants don't deserve this land of opportunity."

"Your logic makes no sense," Sam pointed out, "I was born here, I am an American citizen, but I do not have 'American' blood in me. What is 'American' blood anyway? Isn't America really just a melting pot of every different race? The original Americans were the natives, but we've pretty much killed all of them, and the Americans one thinks about when the use the term 'American' is a caucasian. And everyone knows that the caucasians we have here now are of European descent anyway because of France, Britain, Spain and whatever other countries tried to stake their claim on this land immigrating here after Christopher Columbus's accidental discovery of this continent anyway.

"Therefore, technically your ancestors are no better than animals, which makes you an animal and puts us on equal footing." Sam concluded.

Billy's eyes had glazed over at some point during Sam's speech, and he snapped back to with an annoyed roll of his now glasses-less orbs. "You ruined the dark, sinister mood the author created!" Billy exclaimed.

Sam stared at him blankly. '_The author? What?' _He stated his confusion aloud, to which Billy replied that **_he_** was the author of his own destiny and since he held Sam's life in his hands, him too. Something about suffering, order, and ham sandwiches and then, in passing, playing God and writing everyone's paths for them. Yeah, he was more than a bit delusional, referring to himself in the third person now, simply calling himself 'The author of all authors, the one that rose above all of the plebeians'. Yup, he was mad.

"Dude, you're crazy," Sam was bored. "Just get on with the torture or don't, I really could care less."

"That means you do care!" Billy was like a large child, getting happy from the most random things. Sam wondered if the AWOL SEAL did drugs?

"What?" Sam questioned.

"The expression is 'I couldn't care less', but you said 'I could care less' which implies that you do, in fact, care." Billy nodded knowledgeably.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Look, I don't have all day to die. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity here, literally, and you're kinda ruining it for me," he sassed.

"Sorry," Billy apologised. '_Wait, what? How did that make sense?'_

"Would you prefer this rusty old thing or a neck snap?" Billy asked.

"Neck snap," Sam answered. At least his death would be instantaneous.

Billy dropped the sword, the only weapon that had been holding Sam back, and brought his hands to the Asian's neck. To which Sam jabbed his thumbs in Billy's eyes.

Billy screamed.

Templars were stupid.

Billy attacking Sam had not been the sight Lola had thought she would see. Nope, she had imagined a handsome man, resembling an actor that didn't do his own stunts and so didn't have any scars, fighting a big, bad villain. Well, not really, but what she would have given to be let off with such a Hollywood worthy twist in which she could easily overpower both of the fighting men.

As it was, both of the men were on her SEAL team and she didn't know whose side to take. Clearly though, it was a fight to the death.

Sam was winning based on pure size, muscle mass and skill, where Billy was outgunned.

Sam noticed her approaching and gave her a relieved smile. "Billy had me convinced that he had killed you," he was rightfully shocked.

"If he's the culprit, he must have had help. That explains why he kept going missing though," Lola spoke her thoughts.

"Yeah, I thought so too," Sam agreed, "he killed Garrett and forced Frodo to move the body to the guard station, not to mention carve the message into Garry's back, which reminds me; what did it say, Lola?"

Lola pictured the gruesome sight, forcing herself to relive it so as to be able to answer the inquiry. "It said 'the Apple is mine', except the word 'apple' was capitalised," she grimaced as she watched Billy flail around father pathetically, "any idea what that means?"

"Th-the Apple of E-Eden," Billy gasped out dramatically, "it will reach the hands of the Templars, no matter what!"

"Dude, you're kinda dying over here," Sam pointed out. "I'm pretty sure the Templars are going to have to wait until later for the Apple. It's in Assassin hands now."

Billy choked out a laugh, "Ha ha! But you must find it first!"

Sam stared at him, then lifted his finger to the top shelf of a shelf on the far right of the room.

"Goddamn, curse my height!" Billy whispered. A real character, this one.

"Umm, Sam?" Lola had trained her eyes on the males before her, eyes swivelling between them like she was watching tennis as she attempted to deduce what they were talking about.

"Should I fill her in?" Asked Billy.

"You tell your part, I'll do mine," Sam shrugged, never once releasing the Templar.

Billy shifted awkwardly to face her, "Well, the Templars are an organisation dating back to before the Crusades! We're fantastically talented and all we want in the world is order! So we seek control through the Pieces of Eden, items left behind from the Ones that Came Before. The nasty Assassins have always opposed us though, and I can't figure out why," he sounded so sweet and innocent.

"You seek 'order' through mass genocide," Sam reminded him.

"Oh, yeah!" Billy's eyes lit up, "yeah, that was why I joined the Assassins! Some nice people from that company, Abstergo, though? The pharmaceutical one? They injected me with some weird stuff the other day when they caught me, and I feel funny..."

"Right," Sam frowned as Billy's pulse began to fade, "so apparently Billy was an Assassin as of 'the other day', which explains the 'inside source' he claimed to have. At that point though, he was driven to insanity and became the Templar's own mindless zombie."

"So..." Lola thought for a moment, "Assassins are the good guys, which means you're 'good'."

"Pretty much," Sam almost dumped the 'your-dad-was-a-fucking-awesome-Assassin-and-Garre tt-was-one-too' shit on her, but determined that might be too much for the moment. "So now we get the Apple, and you pretend none of this happened-"

"Pretend none of this happened?" Lola screeched, "Half our bloody team was killed! How do we go on as though something like that never happened?"

Sam sighed. "I'll get back to you when I find out. Now will you please get the Apple for me?"

Lola complied with a glare, making the first mistake of touching it with her bare skin. The second came when Sam did the same whilst she handed it to him.

The light being emitted was blinding as they clutched it, and Sam turned away instinctively. Lola, however, found herself unable to look away.

It began to burn their fingers (Sam's nine and her ten) and they both tried to drop it, but it was stuck to their hands like tar, and there was no escape.

And then they vanished.


End file.
